Eyes of Destiny
by openxyourxeyes
Summary: Lily Evans's life was suddenly changed when she recieved a strange owl telling her of a completely different world at age 11. This is her story of how she found love, friendship, magic, and an ancient power that she possesses.


**Why, 'ello. **_It's Amy, the author of this fanfiction titled Eyes of Destiny. This fanfiction will start out just before Lily's first year and hopefully lead up to her seventh year, or if I'm up to it, her death. Let me just warn you that I write in detail, so the story will be a little…slow. By the way, if you have any constructive criticism for me, that's welcome and wanted._

**Disclaimer. **_I am not J.K. Rowling. I do not own any of these characters, nor do I get any amount of money whatsoever from this piece of writing. A tiny handful of these characters are created in my imagination, but not many. So please don't even try to sue me about this fic, okay? *grins* _

**Let the story begin! **

It was another quiet night on Hardwood Street. A calm, spring breeze blew throughout the road, causing the leaves to make a faint rustling noise. This noise may have been dismissed and unheard on any other street, but on Hardwood, the natural sounds of the night were unusually loud. The absence of owls hooting and nocturnal animals running around made the street a hushed one. A lonely but vibrant yellow sign with bold letters screamed clearly out to the world, "**No Pets Allowed!**" with a black picture of a dog with a red slash going right through it adorned the sidewalk.   
  
The only light emitted was from the tall street lamps, dim luminosity reaching out with withered hands. However, even this small beacon of light was enough for passerby to see what Hardwood was really like. Lines of freshly painted white houses planted themselves, row by row, on the street. Each door was painted a forest green, with a small golden doorknob, probably newly replaced, shining right above the welcome mat. It seemed like every single person on this street had just gone through spring-cleaning, and one speck of dust would be considered a taboo on Hardwood. Every house had crisply cut hedges, lined up perfectly above the bright red begonias and purple pansies. Flowers were planted in geometrical rows, and the smell of them wafted across the street.   
  
Not one light was on in the houses, proving the fact that everyone living here was in bed at proper times. No partying, no nonsense, no fun.   
  
It was a street filled with the same kind of people living in the same kind of houses, with the same kind of opinions. It may as well be considered Utopia for ones who liked to be "just another face in the crowd," ones who had opinions in others' opinions and believed just what their neighbors believed. For an individual, however, the place could be considered a medieval torture chamber in which tongues were torn out and eyes were gouged out. Suffocation. Emotionless. Dead.   
  
But individuals didn't live on Hardwood. Misfits were kicked out of the street by petitions and nice, "civilized" discussions and arguments with the mayor. These people would do anything to keep their peace, their robot-like lives, without one spark of excitement. These people, to put it one simple phrase, were _boring._   
  
Nobody could disturb the peaceful tranquility here known on Hardwood. Nobody could ever destroy the civilized, similar buildings that were on Hardwood. Nobody would ever invade this society, this bunch of people who _wanted_ to be all the same. Or so it was thought.

There was a sudden rush of sound -- too loud to be the rustling of leaves, but too soft to know what made it. Then, quite gradually, the sounds grew, and the soft tap-tap of footsteps hitting the sidewalk vibrated across the pavement. The first pair of footsteps were mysteriously confident, one that was not filled with too much pride or arrogance, but one filled with kindness, laughter, and respect.   
  
The person belonging to these footsteps was an old man. With a long, white beard trailing down to the bottom of his back, he had on half-moon spectacles that were reflecting the light from the streets lamps. His eyes were slightly hidden under the glower of reflection, but even under this, one could tell that he had surprisingly bright piercing blue eyes. They were twinkling, and laughter bounced in his step. He was wearing a long, turquoise cloak and matching blue-green shoes, with upturned soles that made him look like Santa's Helpers. He was different, by the standards of Hardwood Street, and if any of the people living there found out about this strange man, an uproar would be caused.   
  
But he was not the only one.   
  
Clinging to his side came a middle-aged woman, with square-shaped glasses glinting bronze, her eyes stern and lips set in a flat line. There was no laughter in her eyes, but rather fear and suspicion seemed to be arousing in her. With a rather soft whisper, and in a scratchy voice, she asked, "Albus? Are you sure this is it?" With a contained gesture, she waved her arm around and motioned to the houses lining the street.   
  
As if the third pair of footsteps had read this second woman's mind, he came up and asked the exact same thing. His footsteps, posture, and poise all pointed towards the same thing -- a man with power, arrogance, and dominance. He was a man with light brown hair and sea green eyes, with little flecks of blue decorating them. He wore an emblem of gold and silver, which read "Minister of Magic," and had pinned it to his deep blue robes, contrasting highly with the elderly man's festive ones. He was wearing normal shoes however, and his brows were clustered together to form an expression of anxiety.   
  
"Albus Dumbledore! This is the seventeenth house we've visited to look for this special Muggleborn witch that you speak of, and we have not found anyone! Are you absolutely sure that this is the house, or even if this little witch exists?"

"Well, Walter and Madora --" Said the old man, addressing the man with the blue robes and the woman with box-shaped glasses, "-- I must say that _that_ was an ignorant move on both of you."   
  
The stern-looking woman, or Madora turned crimson, looked down and started fiddling with her robes. However, Walter looked completely shocked at what Albus had just told him. "Why I never..." He muttered under his breath. "I'm the Minister of Magic for crying out loud, and this man is insulting me for being ignorant?" Regaining his composure, Walter looked right back at Dumbledore, although he flinched at the piercing blue eyes that seemed to be staring right through him, and asked the old man what was bothering him.   
  
"What are you talking about, Albus? Ignorant, me?"   
  
"Well, Walter, must I remind you that a human being can never be sure a long as one lives? Being sure takes away the spark, the excitement in life. If one knew exactly what blows are coming his or her way, wouldn't it be boring? Do you want life to be boring, Walter? Don't you want the surprises? Don't you want to fight the blows instead of knowing exactly what is coming and being sure of yourself? Wouldn't you like to wonder about what's going to happen to you -- the future -- how the past will affect the future? Or would you like to be a coward and look the future right in the eye? Be brave, Walter, and only look ahead, not at what lies ahead."   
  
The Minister of Magic looked surprised at Albus's long lecture, and moved his mouth soundlessly like a goldfish, not sure what to respond with. Instead, Madora took this opportunity to speak. "Well, you're right, as usual, Albus. So I guess we'll just --"   
  
The old man interrupted her, still looking directly at Walter. "But if you would like to get as close as you can to _sure,_ then I advise you to ask Aurora."   
  
Walter turned a shade of blue that almost matched his robes. "Aurora?" He whispered, careful to keep his voice low. "But how does one converse with Aurora? I mean, Albus, I am a respected member of society, yes? You respect me, Madora, I'm sure, respects me as well --" At this, Madora raised her brow almost to her hairline and smirked at Walter, but turned it quickly into an assuring smile when she realized the Minister of Magic was looking straight at her.   
  
"-- But this woman, Aurora, how can I know how to talk to her? How do I know she respects me? And if she does not, if she is a higher rank than me, how do I ask her any favors? I don't think I should have to remind you, Albus, that Aurora is a goddess, not even a mortal, and I have no idea how to have a conversation with her."   
  
"Are you asking me how to converse with a goddess, Walter?" Dumbledore asked, smiling.

Walter looked at Dumbledore with an almost boyish smile, nodding his consent.   
  
"I'll show you, my boy." Said Dumbledore, and raising his voice, shouted, "Rory! Come here! Walter would like to ask you a question!"   
  
Both Walter and Madora's eyes widened greatly as they understood that Dumbledore was, in fact, calling Aurora, The Goddess of Light, by a _nickname!_ How disgraceful and impolite! They both opened their mouths wordlessly in shock.   
  
However, a moment later, the fourth pair of footsteps came prancing up behind them, and these footsteps proved so light and warm, that even these two forgot their disapproval and couldn't do much but gape at the beauty of Aurora. She was tall with long golden blond hair that seemed to give off radiant phosphorescence that lit up the whole street. Her eyes were a pale, transparent whitish-blue, tinged with golden flecks, and her skin was perfect and peach-colored. She walked with long strides, her long, decorative dress that seemed to be made of the rays of the sun itself flouncing around her legs.   
  
"You called, Albus?" She asked, and her voice was soft, yet bright and vivacious. There was a note of kindness in her voice, and although her lips were not curled upwards in a smile, her eyes were laughing and twinkling just like Dumbledore's.   
  
"Yes, Walter wanted to ask you a question, Rory, dear."   
  
Aurora laughed at the use of her nickname, not acting angry or disappointed at all, as Walter or Madora may have predicted.   
  
"What would you like, Mr. Bandan?"   
  
Walter's ears went bright red and he started muttering incoherent phrases that sounded oddly like, "Thwishouserightbeautyyes?"   
  
Aurora laughed again, the sound like church bells, pure, innocent, and happy. "This house is the right one, yes, and I am sure, as I think you were trying to communicate to me."   
  
Surprised by her ability to translate his most puzzling expressions, Walter turned even redder, and looked down, shuffling his feet like some sort of bashful teenager trying to confess his love for a girl.   
  
"Well, this is the house I believe this special witch lives in. I can feel the magic floating around here, like some sort of invisible shield." Aurora pointed a long, cream-colored finger towards a house, no different from the others, freshly painted white and with red begonias planted on the lawn.

"All right then, let's try this house." Walter said, and walked up to the porch rather briskly. He whipped out a strange, wooden instrument with a pointed end and flicked it around in a familiar fashion, and said in a deep, booming voice, "Obviamino lamio!" And as if her expected for something to happen, he stood back with feet spread wide apart in a proud fashion, and put a hand to his hips, looking at the door with one eyebrow raised.   
  
And most surprisingly, it did.   
  
Because out of the door came a small girl -- just a toddler -- to greet the four of them. She was extremely short, with small feet and skinny arms. Red hair cascaded down her shoulders in tangled ringlets, and her bangs stuck to her sweaty forehead, proving that she had just climbed out of bed. She had a small button-like nose and lips that were curved upwards in a small, shy half-smile. The most noticeable feature about the little girl, though, was her eyes. Her green eyes were so deep they seemed to stretch onto eternity, and were now shining with excitement.   
  
"Good evening." She welcomed them, smiling even wider. "Or rather, good morning," she corrected, checking her watch. "I'm very sorry, but we don't usually have guests at three in the morning, so I may seem unaccustomed, but don't worry. I'm still very happy to have you here. But who might you be?"

"Well, I'm Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of a special school that you might hear about when you're a little more grown up." Answered the old man, waving a hand at himself. "And then --" he said, pointing his free hand at the stern-looking lady beside him, " -- this would be Madora McGonagall, a professor at my school. She teaches a strange subject by the name of Transfiguration. And this -- " he said, pointing a finger at Walter, " -- is Walter Bandan. He is a _very_ important figure in our society. A bit like a prime minister, if you know what they are."   
  
{A/N -- The prime minister is, in American terms, the president-like figure in England, if I'm not mistaken. Heh heh, I'm not very informed in the world of politics...LoL.)   
  
"Oh, of course I know what a prime minister is!" Cried Lily, crossing her arms and looking a little disgruntled. "My father's very interested in politics, sir. In fact, he's secretary of our governor. Actually, my mum is trying to convince my dad to run for governor three years from now. So, it would be a shame for him if his own daughter didn't know anything about politics."   
  
Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively and nodded. "I'm sure he would be, Lily, my dear. And -- oh! My apologies, I still haven't introduced the beautiful one of our group." Waving a hand at Aurora, who blushed slightly at his words, he said, "This is Aurora. She's a bit different from all of us. She's -- " He lowered his voice a little and bent down to Lily's height, " -- a goddess, if you know what they are."   
  
"Goddess? You mean like the gods and goddesses of Greek and Roman mythology?"   
  
Even Albus Dumbledore, who didn't seem to be surprised by anything, looked shocked that a toddler would know anything about ancient mythology.   
  
"Well, I know a little bit about mythology, I guess. I've heard of Aphrodite and Zeus and Hercules, but I've never really heard of Aurora."   
  
"Well, she's not part of Greek or Roman mythology, so that might be why you've never heard of her. She's a goddess in our time, one who can disguise herself as a human, one who can take the shapes of others. She has many different names, but us mortals use Aurora."   
  
Looking confused but delighted, Lily nodded sharply and turned her head to face Aurora. She bowed her head slightly and said, "Very pleased to meet you, Miss Aurora Goddess, ma'am."

"Very pleased to meet you to, Miss Evans," answered Aurora, and stuck her hand out and shook it with the little girl, smiling and revealing white teeth from her shining parted pink lips. "Now, would it be all right if we asked you a couple questions?"

Lily's eyes narrowed in a suspicious glance. "Are you trying to worm information out of me?" She asked. "Are you going to kidnap me?"

Both Madora and Walter looked deeply offended for being called criminals, and gasped, taking a step towards Lily and looking as if they were ready to teach the little girl a lesson, but Dumbledore kept them in check and bent down to Lily's height again, shaking his head sideways. "No, we're not trying to do anything bad, Lily. We're not trying to kidnap you or rob you -- we're trying to help you. If I'm not very much mistaken, you're a very powerful person, Lily, and we want to find out if we can do anything to alter some things in the course of your future."

Lily nodded doubtfully and gave her half-smile again. "Oh...kay." She said, letting her voice trail off a little bit.

"Well, my first question for you is, can you get that cat down from a tree, without using your hands?" 

"What cat? Huh?" Lily asked, looking around, when she suddenly spotted a bright white cat sitting, quite content, in a nearby beech tree. It was very fat and its shaggy hair fell around its eyes messily. Lily found that its eyes were glowing green and looking straight at her. "How am I supposed to lower a cat without touching it?" 

"Concentrate." 

Lily let a spasm of confusion pass across her face, but turned her head towards the cat and narrowed her eyes, concentrating on it. She closed her eyes tightly and furrowed her eyebrows, raising a hand upwards to point it at the cat. She moved the hand downwards, and pulled it in towards herself, still not letting her eyes open. Then, quite suddenly, as though it had been there the whole time, a fat white cat was resting on Lily's feet, its head lolled onto her ankles. Purring, it closed its eyes and yawned. At opening her eyes, Lily looked quite shocked but pleased and lifted the cat into her arms.

Dumbledore smiled.

"Well, well, Lily, my dear, I believe you have gotten my poor Flash down from the tree. She's taken quite a liking for you, my girl." He said, softly lifting the cat from the little girl's arms and handing her to McGonagall, who took the cat reluctantly and shuddered when it tried to lick her face.   
  
"Now, could I ask you to do one more thing for me?"   
  
"Yes, Mr. Dumbledore, sir." Answered Lily, smiling proudly at the thought of saving the old man's cat -- having no idea that he could have lowered Flash from the tree in two seconds, without any thought or stress. The old man didn't tell her of his powers or act superior, however. He was one to show respect to young ones, and he didn't follow the rule, "Children are meant to be seen and not heard."   
  
"Could you think about one thing that you love the most in your life, and look into Aurora's eyes while having that one thought in your head?"   
  
The question, although seemingly simple, was a hard one. Her first thought was that the love of her life was Cookie, her own dog that she loved to pieces and loved to play with outside. Then, the mental picture of her mother and father flashed inside her brain, and she couldn't choose which one of them she loved more. Of course, her best friend Monique Furtado was a good choice of someone close to her, and Petunia, her older sister was a wonderful person too.   
  
Then, the picture of Rose flashed across her brain. Rose, wearing her favorite Sunday dress, bright pink and flecked with red roses. Rose, laughing and running around with Flash outside. Rose, teaching Lily how to write the alphabet and how to whistle. Rose, her older sister, the one person that she looked up to for everything and anything. She saw Rose with her curly blond hair encircling her face, and her sea green eyes shining in joy and cheer.   
  
"All right, Mr. Dumbledore, sir." Answered Lily with a determined nod. Rose was the one person that she loved most.

With a picture of curly-haired Rose imprinted in her mind, Lily stepped up to face Aurora, and looked straight into the lady's beautiful, sparkling eyes. The eyes were perceptive and looked into hers as though they were doors to her soul. Lily couldn't help but avert her gaze and look away -- the pair of eyes matching hers were too powerful, too great.   
  
"Are you sure I'm worthy enough to look into your eyes, Aurora?"   
  
Aurora laughed -- a laugh that was tinkled like bells at a wedding day in church, a fairy-like laugh that brightened up the darkness. "Of course, Lily." She answered, still smiling slightly and looking fond of the young girl.   
  
"All right, ma'am. If you say so." And with that, Aurora bent down and looked deep into Lily's eyes, searching for what seemed like eternity for something in Lily, something that was both dangerous and brilliant at the same time -- something that the four of them had been searching for all night -- a powerful and antediluvian magic that they had searched ardently for three whole years.   
  
And this was the one moment that they found it.   
  
Aurora looked up from Lily's eyes, and giving her a loving pat on the head, turned to Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Walter. "Yes." She said one single word, but the effect and meaning of it was enough to blow the three magicians' minds. Walter gasped loudly and looked back at the small girl in front of him, McGonagall grimaced and looked at the ground, and Dumbledore looked grim, yet satisfied.   
  
"Lily, thank you for your time. We have found out what we needed to, and we must leave immediately now. We have immense research and work to complete, now that we've found you."   
  
"Research on what?" Asked the ever-curious Lily, her eyes sparkling with intelligence and a thirst to know.   
  
"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid we can't reveal that. Good-bye, Lily, and I daresay we'll meet again."   
  
"Good night, Mr. Dumbledore, Miss McGonagall, Mr. Bandan, and Aurora. It was a pleasure to meet you and I do hope I'll have the pleasure again."   
  
Four mumbled goodnights and thank-you's followed, and after the girl climbed the doorsteps and disappeared back into her house, the four adults suddenly vanished into the night with one simultaneous crack. When the girl opened the door to ask one more time, persistently, if she could at least have a clue as to what they were researching, they were gone.


End file.
